Whatever We'll Make of This
by pancake-potch
Summary: Modern Petyr x Sansa. Criminals on the run AU
1. Chapter 1

She ran to him. The man she knew as Dontos. He whisked her away in a car and when he reached a lot at the waterfront, they waited. It was 14 minutes later that a silver sedan pulled up next to them, and Sansa grew more afraid than when she was when she had left the wedding.

She could hear the electric window slide down a touch, but she dared not look to acknowledge who was speaking. Dontos had a hurried conversation in whispers and desperate inclinations. It wasn't until she looked up from her hands that gripped her clutch purse did she realize it was Petyr Baelish that he was talking to. As soon as her fear turned to relief Petyr opened her door, hand open to help her out.

"Now, this way." He hissed at her as he led her to the passenger door of the sedan. It wasn't until she pulled it open did he get back in. His hand on the shift, he reversed, and then straightened forward. The car had traveled a block when she heard the distinct and recognizable _pop_ of a gun. Looking at the rearview mirror she saw the muzzle flash.

Sansa twisted around in her seat to look out he rear window. "Was that Mr. Hollard? Is he ok? Go back!' She spun around, seatbelt rubbing on her neck. "Mr. Baelish! Go help him!" She looked at him, waiting for his hand to reverse the gears and save her friend.

"We should call the police or an ambulance!" She looked at him, waiting for a nod or _anything_ to acknowledge that someone may well have been _murdered_ almost in front of them. He didn't though. He stared straight ahead, hand gripped on the wheel.

Petyr didn't stop. Sansa watched as the car sped past empty industrial buildings, carrying them farther and farther away from the river. The further away from the docks they travelled, the closer they got to the posh downtown area of the city.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" She demanded. "Where are we going?" She turned her body towards him, expecting some sort of answer. When none came, she reached for the door handle.

"Stop. Let me out." The motion of her hand to release the door was caught enough n his peripheral that he sighed.

" _Sansa._ " His tone felt like a warning.

"Stop. _Let me out._ " Her hand pulled at the release despite the fact that the car was still in motion. She could see his jaw harden as pulled abruptly over, tire scraping the curb.

" _Sansa._ Don't." This time he looked at her.

"Tell me. Tell me why. Tell me what we're doing. What happened to Mr. Hollard?" Her hand was still on the handle, and she told herself she wasn't afraid to run away.

She could. She _would._

His gaze didn't stray from hers. The look in his eyes nearly stopped her resolve. If she hesitated she wouldn't be able to get away. Away to _where_ was something she wasn't able to answer.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

 _What happened?_

"Your phone." Petyr said to her. "Give me your phone." His hand was outstretched. She didn't know why he wanted it, but she fumbled around in her clutch for it. The smoothness of the device almost made it hard to grasp, but she did it. Handing it over to him, she thought he would use it to call some sort of law-abiding branch of the county. Instead, he glanced at his side mirror before opening his door and dropping the phone on the pavement. She made a noise of protest.

Without looking at her, he stomped the heel of his shoe onto the screen, ensuring its uselessness. "Smartphones have GPS trackers. Whereabouts can be traced within ten blocks." He looked at her again, maybe hoping to convey the gravity of the situation. " _Sansa, you cannot be found_."


	2. Chapter 2

She looked at him, expecting an answer as to why she couldn't be 'found.'

"What happened? I don't understand _why_ I had to leave."

"You're former _fiancé_ has met an untimely end. Unfortunate for his new bride." Petyr smirked and glanced at the side mirror again, presumably waiting for traffic. He pulled away from the curb, eyes forward.

"Untimely…end? Is he _dead_?" Sansa suddenly clutched her purse as if it were the only thing anchoring her to the situation, knuckles white on the clasp. She knew Petyr didn't need to confirm her suspicions.

 _Oh. Oh by the Gods, Arya. Arya was_ there.

Her sister was tough, but Sansa had willingly left the Lannister home without a thought to her. They weren't seated at the same table, but she was keenly aware that Arya was there. They slept in separate wings of the manse and had hardly spoken to one another. Sansa's chest tightened in shame because she was responsible for that. In all honesty, Arya embarrassed her.

 _What if Arya didn't-_

Mr. Baelish finished her thoughts, as if he read her mind. "Your sister will be _fine_. Whatever happened in the chaos," he looked at her briefly, "she got out. I'm confident."

She looked at him, his hands still gripped on the wheel.

"How do you know?" She asked. "How could you _possibly_ know she's not in…trouble? Some sort of trouble?" Sansa stared at him as he drove. Streetlights hiding and illuminating and hiding and illuminating his profile as he drove on. She saw a brief smile on his face.

"A young woman who could run knives past those assholes Greg and Sandy is more than capable of reading a situation when a quick escape is necessary," he said as if it were obvious.

"Here," he said reaching under his seat, not looking at her as he flung a manila envelope in her lap. "This is the plan."

 **A/N: Inspiration from The Mountain Goats.**

" **There will always be a few things, maybe several things that you're gonna find very difficult to forgive"**


End file.
